


My True Love Gave to Me

by glmmer



Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Hansanna for the Holidays 2019, Post-F1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:34:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21649894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glmmer/pseuds/glmmer
Summary: Written for the "Hansanna for the Holidays 2019" event. Hans receives an unexpected Christmas present.
Relationships: Anna/Hans (Disney)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 41





	My True Love Gave to Me

Hans sighed, rubbing his tired eyes with the backs of his hands. Holidays with the Westergaards were never any fun. The chatter of his brother’s wives, the noise that seemed to follow his young nieces and nephews wherever they went, and his brothers. Everything about his brothers. Including their judgement.

It had been just over six months since his failed coup back in Arendelle.

His brothers, rightfully so, made sure he never forgot his failure. Not only had he nearly committed regicide, he’d failed in his efforts to do so, which, to his brothers, was somehow worse. So, in addition to the punishment of menial labor and the loss of his title, he also had to deal with their snide comments about his inability to do anything right.

He flopped back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Oh, how far he’d fallen.

The dinner hadn’t started out too bad. He sat at the end of one table, next to Gunter’s new wife, Ingrid. She’d looked just as nervous as he had, but thankfully for her, the conversation had shifted to him rather than her.

“Hans, I don’t think Ingrid knows about what you did in Arendelle,” Maksim shouted, clearly already tipsy. “Why don’t you tell her?” Ingrid just stared at him, her blue eyes wide with confusion. Or was it fear? Hans had a feeling she did already know what he’d done in Arendelle.

“I don’t think that’s a conversation appropriate for a holiday dinner, Maks,” Hans spoke, moving to take a sip of his wine.

“Sure it is!” Matheus shouted, clapping Hans on the back.

“I know what happened in Arendelle,” Ingrid said, eyeing Hans again. “Gunter told me. I don’t need to hear it again.” She went back to quietly eating her meat, staring down at her plate so that she didn’t have to deal with any of her disgusting in laws. Hans supposed he was counted among them.

“Don’t you want to hear it from the man himself, though? The tale of his most spectacular failure!”

“Maksim.”

“What is it, brother? Embarrassed that your plans were thwarted by some bitchy little princess that just wouldn’t die?”

“Don’t call her that!” Hans yelled, slamming a fist down on the hard wood of his table. Countless pairs of eyes looked away from their own conversations to land on him, watching, waiting for him to react further.

He would not grant them that satisfaction. He simply stood, smoothing out his coattails.

“Merry Christmas to you all,” he’d said, before turning on his heel and leaving the packed dining room and his judgemental, cruel family.

The loneliness of his room was preferable, he decided, as he lay back on his bed.

Preferable to the family he had. Distantly, though, his heart yearned for a family which he wanted to spend the holidays with. A family he could trust, a family he could love.

He could have had that, had his mother not jumped from that catwalk. He somewhat resented her for that action, for leaving him alone. She could’ve given him a happier life. Protected him from the cruelty of his brothers, provided him with the love and nurturing he’d needed.

Feelings of resentment quickly turned to feelings of guilt, though, and for what seemed like the millionth time in the past six months, Hans began to sob.

His mother had loved him. She had loved him and he hated her and he let her down.

A knock at the door interrupted his wallowing.

He stood slowly, the several wines he’d enjoyed with dinner taking their effect. The room spun ever so slightly, but he was able to steady himself just enough to make it to the door.

“What is it, Ondrej?”

“A package, my Lord.” Each time a servant referred to him as their “Lord”, he wanted to vomit. It was a reminder of just how far he’d fallen. His brothers had stripped him of his title. They still allowed him to live at court, but as somewhat of a ward. He had no title, no land, no wealth.

He would be reliant on those bastards for the rest of his life.

“Are you sure it’s for me?”

“It says ‘To Hans’ on the tag, right there.” Ondrej motioned to the gift tag, and surely enough, in curly, whimsical writing was his name.

He regarded the package more closely — it was wrapped up like a gift.  
Had someone gotten him something this holiday season?

“Thank you, Ondrej,” he said, nodding to the serving man before shutting the door behind him. He brought the gift to his desk, eagerly unwrapping the fine brown paper that covered it, and revealing its contents.

A knitted blue scarf sat before him. It was nice enough, clearly handmade by someone who was not a professional. There were lots of little mistakes, and it was simple, but the material was soft and it was cozy.

Who would have thought to send him this, of all things?

As he examined the scarf more closely, though, a small note card fell to the floor. He bent down and picked it up, the same whimsical scrawl that had been on the tag present on the parchment.

He unfolded it, beginning to read the words inside.

_Hans,_

_Hello. I decided to make scarves this Christmas. I took up knitting not long after you left as some sort of a distraction. One of the maids suggested it, and since then, I’ve spent most nights knitting. I can’t sleep because of you, so I knit a lot, and so I decided to make scarves for everyone for Christmas._

Surely it couldn’t be who he thought it was… right?

_I wound up knitting a whole bunch of them. And a blanket for Elsa, and mittens for Kristoff. And eventually I ran out of people to give them to._

So it was Anna. The woman he’d proposed to, made such grand promises to, and left to die.

She had sent him a Christmas gift. Like they were friends. Like he hadn’t done the things he’d done.

What on earth was wrong with this girl?

He read on, hoping he could find out.

_So I thought, who might need some holiday cheer this year? And I gave some to the orphanage. And then my mind went to you._

He scoffed.

_I’ve heard of your punishment, Hans. And don’t get me wrong, you deserve it. What you did was wrong, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive you fully for it. But I’ve been thinking. I knew so little of you, isn’t that odd? We were engaged and I hardly knew anything about you. But from what you did tell me, and I understand that there is a large chance EVERYTHING you told me was a lie, I gather that you’ve led a most unhappy life. And now it’s even more miserable._

Boy, had she hit the nail on the head.

_I think that you’ve never been loved. And therefore, you don’t know what love is. You couldn’t have loved me because you don’t know how to._

Was she telling him that, or herself?

_I don’t know much about love either, Hans. But I do know that hate is awfully tiring. Because I’ve tried hating you, and I’ve just wound up feeling worse about everything that happened. Do you know how liberating it was realizing that? That I don’t have to hate you? That maybe, just maybe, you were hurting then, and you’re still hurting now?_

_So, I picked up a scarf. And I thought I’d send it to you. Again, if what you told me wasn’t ALL lies, I have a feeling that Christmas with your brothers isn’t exactly a joyous occasion. And so, while I sit with my sister and my friends around a fire, happy and warm, I hope this scarf brings you some happiness and warmth you wouldn’t otherwise have. Hate is tiring. Cruelty is tiring._

_I hope you’re in a better place than you were when we last met. I hope you’ve learned a little bit about love, because I know I have._

_Merry Christmas, Hans._

_Anna_

He stared at the parchment, eyes blinking away tears.

She pitied him. That was obvious. But did he mind?

Not really. He placed the letter down and touched the scarf once more, tangling his fingers in its knit.

He hadn’t learned anything about love. But Anna truly had.

He’d tried to destroy her. The world had tried to destroy her, but still, she chose kindness.

It didn’t make any sense.

But, as he held the scarf, he decided that it didn’t have to.

He thought about what she’d wrote. I hope you’re in a better place. He wasn’t… but could he be?

Could he try?

Her words made it sound like she believed he could.

He looked down at the scarf, something between a laugh and a sob escaping his lips.

Merry Christmas, Anna, he thought. Merry Christmas.


End file.
